


Art of War (That's What I Like)

by frogfarm



Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Ambiguity, F/F, Light Dom/sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 11:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17385914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogfarm/pseuds/frogfarm
Summary: Eve and the Amazons are still learning how to get along. An invitation to a feast seems safe enough. But first, the ritual sweat hut.As withCommon Ground, timeline and setting somewhat indeterminate.





	Art of War (That's What I Like)

**Author's Note:**

> Like all of my most bizarre notions, I have no idea where this came from. But the more I thought about it, the more it demanded to be written.

The camp of the enemy is a dangerous place to be.

Sometimes, it's a necessary one.

In her former life as champion of Rome, the woman now known as Eve had spent many a night in cold and cramped quarters, surrounded by those who would just as soon see her throat slit. Such missions were usually under cover of diplomacy, which always helps to layer over all manner of sneakiness. Nothing ventured, nothing gained; whether knowledge or some other form of power. It did a person no good to always walk among friends.

Of course those have always been in short supply for her, and even more so since the bloody series of events leading to her shocking epiphany. Eve can't blame the Amazons for anything they may have done in the name of survival, regardless of the consequences to herself now that she's sworn to the path of love. She is, however, increasingly dubious as to the value of this latest particular decision. Her life had been spared by the tribe of women she had come close to personally exterminating, and the smart move would have been to hop the first boat to Chin and never look back. Instead, when Varia came calling, Eve actually found herself considering the offer. She still doesn't know why she acquiesced, in the end. All she knows is that surviving this night is going to take all her considerable strength.

"Cheer up."

Varia's voice is low as she leans over. It hardly matters; between the drumming and the dancing, the jubilant and ululating cries of her sisters as they circle the fire, a person would have to be close enough to kiss to hear a word they're saying. Bodies glisten in the firelight, the product of liberal applications of bear grease, and Eve pulls away as a whirling figure passes by, glancing around like a guilty child.

"Is that an order?" Eve regrets her words before they're done. Varia seems to take it in stride, but she's far from an easy woman to read.

"Call it a suggestion." Varia leans back and takes a hearty draught from her wineskin. She holds it out, nodding in encouragement. "You look far too sober."

"I'd rather have tea, if it's not too much trouble." Eve has a good idea as to how little this will accomplish. As usual, her host doesn't disappoint.

"If you walk around an Amazon party with a cup of tea, someone is probably going to throw you into the river." Varia considers momentarily. "Then again, some do that if you don't dance with them."

Eve pulls her shawl tighter about her shoulders, sending a nervous glance around the circle. 

"One drink is not going to kill you." The dry impatience in Varia's words almost distracts Eve enough to miss the leather bag before it lands in her lap.

"We're trying to prove to my sisters that you're a human being." The Amazon continues, on a more serious note. "For the sake of your own skin -- you might want to consider it."

Eve fumbles the stopper and swigs. It's a bit too much, that turns into a brief fit of choking and splutters.

"Then again." Varia retrieves her wineskin, shaking her head in bemusement. "I'd have thought a life with the Emperor had you long accustomed."

"This is..." Eve swallows another cough as she fans her face. "A bit stronger."

"Probably for the best." Varia sounds distracted as she follows one of the dancing figures, a smile tugging at her lips. "You don't want to go in there with a belly full of booze. Or a full belly, period."

"You said the feast is afterward?" Eve cranes her neck, trying to see over the leaping flames to the other side. Too many bodies and shadows, all moving in an endless rotation that threatens to turn her dizziness into nausea.

"Trust me." Varia's grim tone bespeaks the pain of a very personal experience. "It's the only way to do it."

Indulging her curiosity would mean asking how the other woman came by this knowledge. The beat of the drum tugs at her feet, caressing her hips as Eve continues to watch in silence. Half of the women are mere girls, barely blossomed. It only serves as a reminder of her own role in nearly destroying the pitiful remnants of the Amazon Nation. And that crowning injustice had only taken place after a string of defeats that dated to before she was born, as far back as Xena's cruel slaughter of the largest of the northern tribes.

"Do you think I would have done it if I'd known?" She stares into the flames, chin resting on her knees. "If I'd grown up -- knowing who my mother was. What she'd done. Would I still have followed in her footsteps?"

"Now I know you've had enough." Varia looks down at her wineskin with a frown. "Because I sure haven't."

"I thought you said that's a bad idea."

"Who says I'm joining you?" Varia rolls her eyes at the momentary anxiety that must be written all over Eve's face. "Relax. I'm not leaving you by yourself around here."

Eve can't help a snort from her nose. "So I need a bodyguard."

"I gave you my word you'd be safe."

The flatness in Varia's tone is enough to convince Eve of her sincerity, if not its precise direction. Then the Amazon is sitting up, squinting through flame and shadow.

"Looks like they're ready."

It almost feels like a baby bird fluttering in her stomach, making it halfway up her windpipe. Eve swallows and gathers her robe as she stands. A masked figure looms in her vision with a leering grin, and she nearly shies away before it whirls off, lost in the crowd.

"Everyone calls Xena my mother." She follows Varia around the outer perimeter of the dancing circle, keeping as close as she can. "But actually, I have two mothers."

"Three. Or so I'm told." Varia leads her down a side path dimly illuminated with a line of flickering torches. A hut of sturdier than usual construction lies at the end, the thin streams of smoke issuing from within serving as ample evidence as to its purpose.

"About time."

This comes from Cyane, who stands by the entrance wearing an impatient look and little else. It was still hard to credit the stories that were told of the two women before her who bore that same name, but if even half of them were true, it would make a tough legend to live up to. At least this one was physically imposing enough: Broad shoulders and long, straight blonde hair, with the sort of stern features that made younger Amazons swoon.

Eve's ready to follow the others inside when she realizes Varia is stripping off her clothes, tossing them over a rack by the door. Torn with indecision, she's ready to leave everything on. Then Cyane opens the door and a wave of heat pours out and hits her head on, and all of a sudden Eve can't get naked fast enough.

She can hear snickering inside, but it stops before she's through the doorway. The heat is worse around her head. As her eyes adjust, she realizes the others are sitting on the lowest of the wooden benches.

"Down here." Varia gestures, tossing a towel her way. A surreptitious glance indicates the accepted fashion is to wrap this around the waist, leaving the upper body unencumbered.

Eve ties a quick knot and sits down, breathing a sigh of relief at the feel of cooler air. It quickly turns to a cough at the smell of smoke. Glancing about, she spies a metal dish atop the pile of heated rock, filled with a variety of dried herbs giving off tendrils of vapor. She recognizes some of them, in particular at least two from the bringer of dreams.

"Too cold." With this pronouncement, Varia grabs the ladle from the open barrel, pouring water over the bottom stones. Eve lets out a piteous groan at the resulting rush of steam, echoed by Cyane's own indication of pleasure.

"That's more like it." Varia climbs up to the second level, digging into the corner for a handful of large fronds, all woven together into a large brush. Cyane turns her back on her fellow Amazon, closing her eyes with a hum as Varia begins to methodically strike her all over her back and shoulders.

"Oh, sorry --" And Cyane is holding up a frond of her own, with a hesitant look of expectation. "Want me to do you?"

Eve's having enough trouble breathing without trying not to cough. "Pardon?"

"It's how you get clean." Varia's casual tone nearly conceals her concern for Eve's well-being. At least that's what it sounds like. Maybe just what she wants to believe.

"Oh." Eve can feel the blush adding further heat to her face, spreading down her neck. She turns round, bringing to mind the fleeting thought of a dagger in her back.

"You should be grateful you're not with the northern tribes." Varia's tone is fond, almost affectionate. "They sit in these things til they can't sweat any more. Then they run out and jump in a frozen lake. Right through the ice."

Eve finds herself unable to comprehend, or to resist asking. "Why?"

Varia snorts. "So they can prove they've got the biggest balls."

"It's good for the circulation." Cyane whips her frond lightly over Eve's skin, casually efficient. "And they say it helps you live longer."

"Balls."

Varia's profanity is punctuated by a deep chuckle Eve doesn't recognize. She's about to turn around when Varia dumps another ladle of water on the rocks. Steam billows through the hut, filling her head until it feels light as a feather.

"I.." Eve struggles to form a thought. "Think I need to lie down."

"On your stomach." Varia's warning seems muffled, as though her ears were wrapped in linen. "In case you get sick."

Eve retains just enough presence of mind to remove her towel and lay it out beneath her as a layer of protection against splinters. The flicker of embarrassment is more than fleeting, unable to keep from imagining the other two casually observing and assessing her hindquarters. But the weight of the heat bearing down upon her soon drives all other concerns from her mind, her thoughts drifting like smoke as the tiny room continues to warm. 

_Three mothers._ With that thought there comes the image of Callisto, her spiritual progenitor. Except this was not the glorious angel, ascended and finally made whole; nor the madwoman she had been for most of her existence, fueled and consumed by hatred for Xena. This vision seemed a glimpse of a Callisto who might have been but never was, a mirror of light to Xena's own darkness.

Another thought occurs, and Eve nearly laughs aloud just to realize it. She's the first person in history created without a father.

 _Lucky you,_ she thinks. Maybe some day, it'll be just like going to the market for a loaf of bread.

"I'm more of a meat gal myself."

Eve blinks in confusion, her mudddled thoughts startled into motion. The voice is new, coming from somewhere far above, a sudden reminder of her own complete and total nudity. On the verge of rolling over, she's abruptly reconsidered the notion when the voice continues.

"And you haven't got much on you."

Eve finds herself stung by the scornful and dismissive tone. Before she can reconsider a second time, she rolls over.

The towering figure that greets her is made more impressive by her own current position. Still, perspective has nothing to do with the powerful cuts of muscle that stand out beneath a seemingly endless series of dizzying curves. The newcomer stands over Eve with both hands on her hips, the arrogant posture displaying her glistening body to full advantage even in the dim light.

"Like I said." A smirk curls the Amazon's lips. Her hair is long and light in color, tumbling free apart from the leather headband and twin braids that mark her as one of the northern tribes. "You don't look so tough."

"Looks can be deceiving." Eve carefully extends her awareness without looking away. The others are gone, the two of them alone and facing off in a confrontation any observer would describe as laughably unequal.

"You're right about that." The blonde Amazon stares down in what seems to be monumental disbelief. A study in contrasts, her chiseled beauty combines the finest elements of both sexes, the squareness of her jaw offset by the fullness of her lips. The result is physically imposing without being large, the toughness of a born street thug with all the soft and feminine allure of a new mother holding her first born.

Eve swallows as the other woman leans down, right up in her face. Lines of laughter and some of years dance at the corners of her eyes, for all the precious little pleasantry in that smile.

"Your mother killed me." The words hang in the air before the next ones send them scattered upon the winds. "Nearly wiped out the whole tribe."

Stunned as she feels, Eve's thought goes straight to her lips. "Then how are you even here?"

A chuckle of disdain greets her attempt at rational dialogue. "Don't ask me."

Eve lets out an involuntary squawk as she feels herself grabbed by the shoulders, hauled to her feet with practiced ease. It takes a moment to gain her footing, and her success only results in feeling even more intimidated now that they're both standing, with herself a whole hand shorter.

"All I know is..." The Amazon's voice thickens with appreciation, her gaze roaming up and down her body. "You're a gift from the gods."

Her fingers twitch with the pointless urge to cover herself. The raw hunger in those eyes leaves little doubt in Eve's mind as to who this woman believes to be the intended recipient of said gift.

"At least tell me your name." Her voice sounds pitiable in her own ears, and what a ridiculous thing to say, at a time like this. A hearty laugh is her only response as those strong arms encircle her, pulled in pressed up close against her belly to belly.

Another gasp of surprise from Eve as she is lifted up, and an answering hum of pleasure as her captor suckles at her nipples, coaxing them to full swell.

"Silly girl." The Amazon's growl sends a shiver through her body that goes straight to the insistent throb in her loins. "There's no names in here."

Eve realizes she's being pulled along as the stranger leans back on the top bench, gently but firmly pushing her down. Her knees hit the ground as she stares into the other woman's widespread thighs, her own mouth watering at the sight of moistening flesh. The surrounding hair is dark with wet, and gathered into a pair of braids on each side matching those atop her head. She almost giggles at the sight, and then the hand at the nape of her neck knots into a fist, pulling her hair tight enough to hurt.

"Hands behind your back."

The hoarse command brooks no opposition. Eve scrambles to obey, her cheek resting on one thigh. The massive scar that graces the other side is many years old. Still, she shudders to imagine the blow.

"That's right." A throaty laugh accompanies the grip in her hair that continues to pull her down. Her senses swim in a smoky haze of shaman's herbs, the ripe musk of a woman in heat. "Are you up for it?"

A spark of rebellion flares deep in her heart. For good or ill, for all her life -- including her wasted years spent as Livia, the Butcher of Rome -- Eve has never been one to refuse a challenge. Apparently it runs in the family.

"Hm." She breathes deep as she nestles in, testing with her tongue, delicately teasing around the edges. "I guess Amazons really do bathe more than once a year."

"Is that mouth good for more than talking?" The blonde growls and lifts her knees, her sigh turning into a deep, satisfied chuckle. "Mmm...all signs point to yes."

Her arms ache with the effort of keeping her hands where they are. Eve pushes forward, her shoulders forcing those strong legs further apart, shoving them back so she can burrow deeper, taste every drop of the honey on tap. The woman continues to mutter obscene encouragement, setting Eve's ears ablaze with shame even as her groans join with those of her nameless partner --

 _Cyane_ , she thinks. Not the youngling she met this evening who had disappeared along with Varia, probably in service of some twisted prank. Nor was this her predecessor, hunted by Livia herself. This was the true and original bearer of the name.

The dead Queen's teeth bite into her lower lip as she comes, hard and nearly silent. Apart from harsh, rapid breathing, quiet growls that almost turn to a whimper at the very end. Eve can feel her jaw beginning to cramp even as she realizes she's still pushing, desperately trying to crawl inside this great mother's womb. Her shoulders scream with pain, her entire body trembling with need.

She lets out a muffled sob as Cyane's finges loosen their grasp on her hair. A moment where Eve thinks it's over, and then that hand is stroking her forehead. Tears squeeze from her eyes like lava, burning their way down her cheeks.

"Give me your hands."

Another sob as she struggles to comply. The pain is intense, almost like being crucified. Eve nearly laughs, imagining her mother: _And how would you know?_ She sits in the larger woman's lap, feeling her own aching center open and ready. Cyane is crooning to her, almost gentle.

"Hold on to me."

She can't help crying out at the feel of those long, rough fingers stirring her up. Cyane is holding her by her hair again, watching in fascination at the multitude of expressions flickering across Eve's visage, from pain to ecstasy. The worst part of it is she keeps being right about to come and then the bitch will back off again, kissing and suckling at her nipples until they're starting to hurt and then going right at it stronger than ever, fucking her deep with smooth, short movements and an increasingly smug, innocent smirk on her face. It's when one of those fingers brushes the spasming tightness of her ass that she throws her arms around Cyane, bears down with all her might and goes over the edge, those roughly thrust fingers instantly seized in a grip that nearly prevents them from moving at all. And still Cyane is fucking her, rocking in and out, grinding harder as Eve comes, and continues to come, hot and squirming and anything but silent.

She's in a daze, coherent enough to realize there are no arms around her. Still stunned, barely able to think, Eve slowly becomes aware of a familiar voice.

"You need to drink something."

Blinking, she opens her eyes. Varia stands over her, still wearing the towel wrapped about her waist. In her hand, the Amazon holds out a skin that doesn't smell like wine.

"Thanks." Eve accepts the proffered hand and sits up. She tries not to guzzle, but it feels like years have gone by while she sat in here. Glancing over Varia's shoulder reveals the younger Cyane, her long blonde hair sporting no braids, still stretched out on the upper bench with a frond over her face.

"Did I fall asleep?"

Varia shrugs. 

"Didn't notice." 

Eve hands back the waterskin, quickly covering her chest. Her body thrums with nervous energy, even as she feels more relaxed than ever before in her life. She has absolutely no idea what just happened. But one thing is certain.

She's worked up one hell of an appetite.


End file.
